It's Not a Diary!
by kiki.forever
Summary: "Her body was broken and mangled beyond repair, and despite the fact that I scarcely heard anything in this frozen state, I knew one undeniable thing: there was only one slowed heartbeat in this unforgiving air. And I wished it wasn't my own" (excerpt from Chapter 5 of It's Not a Diary!). Follow Quil and Claire's adventure as they struggle with their feelings for one another.
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary: **__**"Her body was broken and mangled beyond repair, and despite the fact that I scarcely heard anything in this frozen state, I knew one undeniable thing: there was only one slowed heartbeat in this unforgiving air. And I wished it wasn't my own" (Ch 5). **_

_**Quil loves Claire and feels like the worst excuse for an imprint. He can't even save her, his Claire, from danger. Now they are on the run. He gave her a diary - Claire claims it's a "task book" - to write down all her thoughts. Will they get together?**_

**Author's Note: A new story, just like I promised! Only this time, I don't think anyone even had the chance to read the short summary on my profile because I was already posting the story on the same day! Lol! Anyway, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago on paper - when my computer wasn't working properly - and I finally typed it out. I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I have an idea on where I'm going with it. I think I have a beta, but I was too excited to wait for her response, and I posted this anyway. It's flawed and really needs editing, but we'll work out the kinks later. **

**Hope everyone enjoys this! I've got a lot on my plate (three stories all at once? Yikes!). Don't hesitate to review and show criticism! ^^**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the creator of Twilight. Not me. Nope. ^^**

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

Quil's POV

_I was being forced to go to this stupid two-year-old's birthday party—Sam went all Alpha on me, bending me under his will. I knew he never would have commanded me using 'the voice' unless it was:_

_a) For the better good; aka: saving La Push, or any other poor, forsaken human that need a pack of flesh-ripping wolves to save their asses._

_Or_

_b) For his imprint, Emily._

_Thankfully this command was for Emily; or rather for her niece—some ruggrat named Claire. Whatever. The whole pack was being forced to go and celebrate the "life changing phenomena of a child hitting her terrible two's."_

_I had never met Emily's niece before, but I already figured I wouldn't like her, considering I'm missing the football game on TV for her._

_So, I let myself in the door of Emily and Sam's house, kicking off my muddy shoes (hey, even a werewolf has a bit of decency), and followed the wave of voices—which led me to the backyard._

_I froze when I heard an intoxicating giggle coming from inside the kitchen. My brain switched off any other insignificant thoughts, filling completely with the tingling bell-like sound of laughter. My feet moved on their own accord, dragging me from my spot at the back door and into the kitchen._

_At first I was kind of confused; I swore up and down that I heard some kid's laughter from in here. My eyes swiftly darted around the room, searching for the source of the noise._

_Another peal of giggles erupted, and I did a 360° turn, my eyes finally landing on a soft, black lock of hair coming from an open cabinet._

_I cautiously walked over to the cabinet, lighting flicking the piece of hair with my index finger. The small lock turned into a full head of hair. My eyes met with the eyes of a small child—one who could hardly be two years old._

_That's when the world just stopped. Right there. All I could see was her. My heart was pounding—hard. It could have possibly leaped out of my chest, and I wouldn't have noticed the difference._

_Then the world went in fast-forward; you know, like those action movies? The kitchen was simply a blur of white cabinets and yellow wallpaper, finally coming again to a solid stop in front of this beautiful little girl. At the pit of my stomach I felt a funny lurch—the spot gravitated toward her; as if she was the one anchoring me to the world._

_All of this happened in the single second our eyes met. Her face broke into a brilliant, toothy smile._

"_Hi! I'm Cwaire!" She giggled, waving a small, dimpled hand in my direction. "But don't tell no wone where I hiding. It's a seeeeecret," she drawled, laughing again._

_I just stood there in awe, silently drinking in the sound of her precious laugh. Finally I snapped out of my daze and gave her a goofy, lopsided grin._

"_I'm Quil. And I heard you're the birthday girl, Claire-bear."_

"_Yup, yup, yup," she answered gleefully, before grabbing my hand to play hide-and-seek._

"_CLAIRE?" A voice bellowed, followed by loud footsteps. I was still lost in the depths of Claire's sparkling brown eyes, and only after the shouting figure stepped behind me, did I realize it was Sam._

"_Claire, Aunt Emily wants you to go outside with your older sister," Sam gently ordered the tiny, jovial princess._

_Her gentle eyes looked behind me, meeting Sam's. Sam scooped Claire into his arms, walking her toward the back door. No. No! My angel was gone!_

"_NO!" She screamed, the happy angel turning into a shrieking tot. "I want Qwil!" She beat her tiny fists against Sam's forearms, demanding to be let down. Sam stopped and turned toward me, his surprised expression lingering on my face._

_But I only had eyes for her. I ran toward them, offering my hands toward her. Claire's tear-filled eyes immediately brightened, and she eagerly stretched her chubby little arms toward me._

_Sam gasped loudly, his narrowed eyes finally meeting mine. Bored with his expression, I turned toward my Claire-bear again._

"_Quil," he said slowly. "You didn't."_

_My eyes still lingered on the tiny body I yearned to protect and care for. These feelings were nothing romantic. She was simply my pride and joy. I could never look at another girl the same way again._

"_You didn't," Sam repeated, his arms crossing over his chest with absolute authority._

_I nodded my head. "Oh, but I did."_

But that was sixteen years ago. Sixteen glorious, painless years. And now we were running for our lives. I wish I could take back that one dreadful second that caused this whole freaking mess, but I can't. I tried to calm Claire down as much as I possibly could; I gave her a diary to write all her thoughts down—perhaps even relive her past; the glory days.

And so she snatched the book, giving a hurried thank you, before escaping to the corner of our snowy, godforsaken tent. She sat there—for ages. Just staring at a cloth wall of the stupid tent; glaring even. And I stared at her, my one and only love. She didn't realize how much I cared for her; yes, she knew of the imprint, but not the undeniable love behind the magic. I bet she didn't even feel the same way about me. I'm such a loser. And a terrible imprint! Heck, I was the one who got her into this mess!

Trying to distract myself—and her—I suggested she wrote in her diary. And you know what she did? She sharply whipped her head toward me, swiftly picked up the nearest rock, and chucked it at me—saying, "It's not a diary! It's not even a journal! It's a task book; nothing more!"

Damn. Would I ever understand that stubborn, eighteen-year-old woman?

* * *

**End of chapter notes: Voila! Do you like it? Like I said, this chapter will be edited, so don't get too irritated with the flaws. Reviews are always nice. :)**

**/EDIT/: My beta for this story, SkylarCraze, just finished editing, so I replaced this chapter. No worries, it's not that different. Just a few grammatically errors fixed, and I think one sentence was changed a bit. **

**But it wouldn't be near as smooth without my beta. Thank you so much, Sky! You rock my socks! :D**

**/EDIT 2/: I included a summary before the author's note (06/06/13).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey, readers! ^^ I got back from my trip, updated my other fics, and now it's time to update this one! :D**

**Thanks for the reviews! I did get an anonymous reviewer, and since I can't actually hit the "Reply to Reviewer" button, I'm going to thank that person here. I'm not very fluent in Spanish, so I apoligize; I had to go to Google translate. LOL. Anyway . . .**

**To the reviewer, Saris: Gracias por la revisión, Saris! Prometo añadir más emoción a los siguientes capítulos. ^-^**

**There you go! Hope I didn't just offend any Spanish readers. xD**

**By the way, I made a new Claire/Quil story. It's a one-shot about Quil telling Claire he's a wolf. I will probably put it in this fic in Claire's POV when the time comes. It's called "I'm Gonna Give All My Secrets Away," and it's a song fic; the song's "Secrets" by OneRepublic.**

**My super amazing beta, **SkylarCraze**, edited this! Thanks so much, Sky! :D**

**Enjoy everyone! ^^**

**Disclaimer: I'm not creative enough to come up with sparkling boyfriends, or 300 pound space heaters. Wish I was. That'd actually be pretty cool. ^^**

* * *

**_Chapter Two_**

Claire's POV

_Task Book_

_Written by: Claire Young_

Dear . . . no, that's stupid.

Hi, my name is—ugh, lame.

Okay, so I have no idea how to start this ridiculous entry. I guess for starters I could inform everyone that this is NOT a diary. Nope. Not even a journal. Quil learned this fact the hard way. And if you want to live much longer, my sweet, little task book, I suggest you—

Damn, I'm talking to a freakin' book! A book! Life on the run is already messing with my mind. And why are Quil and I running, you may ask? Well, I'll get to that later. Right now I just want to think about my past—my time as a child. Yeah . . . it was a pretty sweet life. Especially when you have a huge, three hundred pound space heater for a protector . . .

* * *

Fragments.

My memories of life before Quil were simply fragments. I mean, most kids don't remember a whole lot about their life until they turn five anyway. But I have fragments.

Fragments of our little, one-story house. Fragments of my sister, Grace, and I rolling through the soft grass. Fragments of my mom grasping my baby pink hand, gently pulling me across the beach.

We use to live on the Makah reservation, which was not too terribly far from La Push. But when Grace, Mom, Dad, and I went down to La Push for a visit, I met Quil. At the time, I didn't know why we stayed in La Push, but it was for Quil and me—so we could be closer to each other.

But these were just fragments—only fragments. Now I have memories—of me and Quil.

* * *

Five.

I was five years old when I started ballet class. And I was one hell of a dancer, I'm telling you! I remember twirling around in that short little pink tutu, my tiny feet gliding across the dance floor. Hands graceful, arms flowing. And Quil came to every single one of my practices. Luckily they took place right after school and only lasted an hour and a half. Since Quil's a werewolf, he has to patrol at night with the others, and he wouldn't have made it to my dance classes if they weren't early in the evening.

And, no, Quil doesn't need a full moon to turn into a big pile of fluff. He's basically a shape-shifter; he's not the real deal. Real werewolves are called Children of the Moon, who arise during a full moon, and have more of an animalistic attitude and don't have very good control of themselves. They wouldn't be able to live a real life like my Quil.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention this: Quil Ateara is my soul mate. Yeah, yeah, a grown man is a soul mate for a little toddler. I can hear the police now, coming to arrest a pedophile. Of course, I didn't know he was my imprint at the time (and he certainly didn't think of me _that _way—he was just my protector). I didn't even learn he was a werewolf until much later in my life.

Besides, I'm getting ahead of myself. Five. I was five years old . . .

So, we were getting ready for a recital—my very _first _recital. I was nervous; so nervous the butterflies in my stomach wouldn't stop fluttering, and I felt like I might blow chunks.

I'm not sure why I was freaking out so much. We were only doing a show about _Alice in Wonderland_; I was playing a little ladybug. Little ladybugs didn't do much: we flapped our cloth wings, did a hop, skip, and a couple of jumps, and then we were off the stage in a flash. But five year olds don't really think all that rationally.

After about six trips to the bathroom with my mom, Quil pulled me aside—the other younger girls screaming and running away with fright at the size of his massive form—and gave me a little talk.

"What's wrong, Claire-bear?" He asked, running one large, warm hand in circles on my tiny back, while the other hand wiped away a couple of fat tears near my eyes.

"I'm scared, Quil," I whispered in such a small voice that only he could hear me.

He gave a small smile, his chocolate-brown eyes filling with unbending care. "You shouldn't be, my little firefly."

"Quil," I giggled and the tears stopped flowing. "I'm a _ladybug_, not a firefly! I told you that a million times!"

He chuckled, the laugh coming from deep within his broad chest. "I know, I know. I just wanted to make you laugh. And it worked, right?"

My grin widened. "Yeah, it worked."

I reached up to him with little fingers, urging him to pick me up. My giggle filled the entire room when he twirled me around like a princess. He gave me a kiss on the cheek with a large _smack _sound, and my laughter increased, mixing with his chuckle.

He regretfully returned me to my mommy after giving me a quick and playful wink—which made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside; he was such a great friend . . . almost like a big brother.

My mom walked me to the line with the other ladybugs, the tinkling music signaling our entrance. I glided onto the stage, feeling like I really had wings. That was my favorite show ever.

* * *

First grade.

In first grade I got a best friend (other than Quil). Her name was Lizzie. You see, I never really had a best friend (again, other than Quil) before then. I hung around everyone, played with everyone, and told my secrets—even though that probably wasn't very wise—to everyone. Then, there was Lizzie Jean Ray; she was a nice girl, with pretty brown eyes and black hair—not unlike any other girl on the Rez. But, what made her different from any other girl on the Rez, was that she was very poor, and wore clothes from the nearest donation center. Her clothes were either too big or too small.

I couldn't care less if she was poor or not; but the other kids made fun of her, which made me furious. She was a quiet girl and didn't stand up for herself, so, one day, I stood up for her.

The Quileute Grade School didn't have a school bus, so all the first-graders stood under a couple of trees near a picnic table, waiting for their ride. Lizzie Jean was eating left-over crackers from her lunch sack—sitting Indian-style on the soft grass. It was one of those days where she had to wear clothes that were too small, and her skirt was riding up. Of course, her white underwear was showing, and a couple of students came over to her.

"Ew, Elizabeth Jean, look at your ratty clothes! I see London, I see France, I see someone's underpants!" One of the snobby girls, named Candace Flint, shouted toward her.

The other kids snickered as Lizzie Jean blushed and grappled at her skirt, attempting to push it down to avoid the stares of the children. One boy snatched her lunch sack with a sneer, and stuffed the crackers down his greedy throat.

That's where I came in. I stomped over to the crowd—avoiding a strange urge to go over to the swing set—and shoved past a couple of boys who tottered over from the impact, finally approaching Candace Flint. Candace was flaunting her new skirt, and comparing it to Lizzie's with a scornful attitude. Just as Candace was about to steal the remaining crackers from Lizzie's lunch sack, I tapped her on the shoulder. Candace turned around with surprise—not exactly knowing who I was. I grinned evilly at her, and then smacked her straight across the face.

"Leave. Lizzie. ALONE." I emphasized, as if talking to a dumb dog. Candace's gray eyes turned into icy cold slits as she rubbed her red cheek. If the high and mighty first-grader didn't know me before, she definitely knew me now.

I walked past the girl without a second glance, and sat next to Lizzie Jean.

"Hi," I smiled at Lizzie. "I'm Claire Young. You must be Lizzie Jean Ray."

With her returning, shy smile and beaming brown eyes, I knew we would be best friends.

I grabbed Lizzie's hand, pulling her to her feet, and dragged her over to the swing set—Quil always met me there after-school. A weird pull in the pit of my stomach urged me to go over there, just like before when I was walking toward Candace. And, to my surprise, Quil was already there waiting for me. I introduced Lizzie to my Quil, and promised to sit by her at lunch tomorrow.

As Quil and I were walking back to his gray Chevrolet pick-up truck, he said to me, "That was nice what you did for that girl."

I shrugged my shoulders, giving Quil a small smile, "It's just lunch. It's not anything special."

His eyes twinkled as I stared up at him. "I meant the way you stood up for her in front of those kids. You gave that snooty girl one heck of a slap."

I giggled as I remembered the incident. "How did you even see that, Quil? I didn't see you over there!"

He shuffled around awkwardly, his eyes darted toward the ground. "I was there. You just didn't see me."

"No," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. "You were by the swings."

He finally looked down in my eyes. "Claire-bear, I wasn't." He almost sounded like he was persuading me.

My eyes crinkled with confusion. "But—but I know when you are close! I—I have this feeling! This feeling in my tummy! I _know _that you were by the swings!"

Now it was Quil's turn to look confused. "Claire-bear, don't worry about it. I could hear every word that was going on by those picnic tables. Now, who's up for frozen custard?"

I was officially distracted by those magical words: frozen custard. "Oooh! I want custard! Cherry custard! Please, please, please?" I bounced up and down on my tiny feet, tugging on Quil's arm persistently.

He laughed my favorite booming laugh before saying, "Alright, Claire, alright. Let's go."

And I forgot all about the tug in my belly and Quil's supernatural hearing and sight.

* * *

Quil keeps on trying to put his arm around me, telling me it's too cold to be without a space heater, such as his self. But I don't want him to read my task book—which really isn't a task book, but I'm determined not to give in and call it a diary. That just sounds too idiotic and childish.

So, I guess I better call it quits and write in this thing tomorrow morning. Besides, I don't want to miss a chance to cuddle with my wolf. I wonder if he even feels the same way about me, as the same way I feel about him. But that's another story for a different entry.

Until next time!

-:Claire:-

* * *

**End of chapter notes: That was pretty long. :) Probably my longest chapter yet! And don't worry, you all will find out what or who's putting them in danger in the next chapter. Can anyone (Shh, Skylar, don't tell anyone :P) give a guess what they're running from? Virtual brownies to whoever guesses right! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: UGH! I'm sooo sorry! It's been over a month! Forgive me! I'll try not to let it happen anymore. Life just got really rough. School started, my grandpa got put in the hospital (he's alright now!), and tons of homework hit me in the face. Then, recently, when I tried to sit down and write . . . nothing came. I got a serious case of writer's block. :(**

**But now I'm back in my zoooone (hehe, I totally stole that from Skylar)! I hope to update once a week, just like my other stories, from now on. Thanks for the reviews! They really encourage me to keep going!**

**And thank you so much, **SkylarCraze**, for being my beta! You are awesome, and you really helped me!**

**Enjoy, everyone! ^-^**

**Disclaimer: I got all my ideas for Twilight from everyday life. Wait. I didn't write Twilight! Stephenie Meyer did! Whoopsies! ^w^ **

* * *

**_Chapter Three_**

Quil's POV

I watched as Claire scribbled in her book, curious as to what she was writing. Every once in a while she would stop her jotting and raise her pen to her chin, cutely tapping the utensil to her face in deep thought.

She insisted I stayed on the other side of the tent—not wanting me to peak at her book. I was dying to know what was in there, but I respected her wishes, and kept my straying eyes away from the appealing pages.

While she wrote, I was deep in thought myself. There had to be a better strategy than this waiting—this running—this . . . cowardly action. It went against all my being to simply stay away and not fight.

But I had no choice.

I remember that day like it was yesterday—well, that's pretty dramatic because it was yesterday. But I digress.

The point is I upset a very dangerous person . . . if you could even call the evil creature a person . . .

* * *

I was running patrols as usual on the circuit, as Jared and Embry took their sleep break. They would be taking my place in a few hours.

All was clear on the home front—no danger, no worries. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary—that is, until I smelled them.

Their sickly-sweet scent hit me worse than a wrecking ball, clogging my nostrils and causing a territorial growl to escape through my sharp teeth. They might be trouble, they might not. I decided to scope out the area before I signaled an alarm.

I heard them long before I saw them—my extra-sensory hearing coming of great use. I heard their evil plans to stop by Forks for a snack. Forks wasn't exactly our territory, but still, it was home toa few precious lives.

_Hey, couldn't sleep very well. You tired? I can take over if you . . . _Embry paused after adjusting to his wolf form and ran through my thoughts.

_Bloodsuckers_, he exclaimed before running in my direction_. Stay there, Quil! We're coming._

I heard an echoing howl in the distance and cursed.

_You idiot! _I burst with fury. _Now those bloodsuckers are gonna hear you, catch my scent, and gang up on me!_

_Oh_, Embry said. _My bad. I, er, just woke up, so my brain's not really functioning right, and—_

_Sure, sure_, I said dismissively, coiling to spring on the vamp that was prowling toward my area. He had separated from the rest of his group to do his own hunting and caught my scent. Curious and daring, he raced toward me with a crazy smirk, before launching himself into the snowy clearing.

Surprise and utter discontentment crossed his features as he realized what kind of creature I was: a werewolf; three hundred pounds of sheer awesomeness. Then, a smile ghosted across his mouth again, and he stalked toward me slowly.

"Well, well. What do we have here? I heard the rumors that little puppies ran around these parts, but I didn't think they were true," the leech taunted; his black hair rustled in the harsh, snowy breeze, his black eyes with a hint of burgundy bore into mine. His skin was pale like most bloodsuckers, and he was rather lean and tall. But I learned long ago that looks are deceiving; this vamp could turn deadly and rip my paws right off my legs within seconds if I didn't stand my ground.

_Quil! _I heard a voice yell in my head. Jared. And, oh look, he brought images of Kim with him. Yuck; I really didn't need to know what they've been up to the past few hours! I shook off these thoughts and returned my focus to the bloodsucker in front of me.

_Quil! _Jared repeated loudly. _We're coming!_

_Yeah, whatever, I'll just keep this guy occupied. _I was growing frustrated by their thoughts; I was trying to find the best opening to shred the vamp's neck. Apparently I didn't need to because Embry came flying onto the vamps back, yanking a large chunk of marble flesh from his neck. The vamp howled with fury and tossed Embry to the solid ground.

Vehemence raged through me as I heard Embry let loose a small yelp of pain. Nobody hurts my brothers without answering to me. I lunged at the vamp, sending us both to the white ground, and embedded my claws deep into his stone chest. My sharp teeth ripped into various parts of his body, tearing him to shreds. One disgusting leech down.

I heard a shrill cry of sorrow pierce the chilly air, coming from the west.

"Rafael!" It was a woman's voice; she quickly rushed to his side and knelt down, brushing her hands against his limbs. Dry sobs echoed from deep within her chest.

"RAFAEL!" She screamed again, her voice cracking with regret at the end.

After rising up to my paws, I spit out a piece of Rafael's flesh onto the soil next to the rest of the limbs. The lady vamp's eyes widened and she looked up at me with upmost rage.

That's when my troubles started. I felt every muscle in my body freeze painfully. My legs buckled, and I fell hard onto the cold ground. I whimpered and struggled against the force, trying not to meet the eyes of the lady vamp. Her eyes narrowed, and a sharp hiss escaped her bared teeth.

Suddenly I felt my blood begin to slow, and my breath became shallower with each passing second. I barely noticed the other bloodsuckers that arrived with Rafael or saw the lady vamp come onto the battle scene. I barely noticed my brothers, Jared and Embry, along with Sam and Paul—who just came into the fight—as they all began to tear apart the other vamps.

I barely heard the names that were yelled: some leeches named Arabella and Desmond. Apparently they were the other ones that were with Rafael and the lady vamp.

I barely heard my brothers who cried out my name. I barely heard or saw anything.

All I felt was nothing. No muscles. No blood. No breath. Nothing.

Then the lady vamp, who Arabella—before she was killed along with Desmond—called Delphine, was attacked by Sam. Her concentration was broken and the spell was lifted. I chugged deep, hacking gulps of air and rose unsteadily to my feet. I was about to show this Delphine leech who was the boss of the woods, but she was already racing in the opposite direction.

We followed her, but she was ready this time. Any time we got close, she threw her freaky spell at us, temporarily stopping our muscles from working. Apparently this was her talent as a vampire. Wow. Sucks for us.

Finally she managed to stop us all in our tracks, as we fell to the ground and felt nothing. She turned her gaze to me, in full concentration.

"You!" She shouted, her eyes black with hate and thirst. "You killed my love! My dear Rafael!"

I would've responded with some sarcastic remark about how strange it is that she found him attractive with that greasy hair, but her power kept me silent.

Then she completely freaked me out by leaning down and taking a deep whiff of my scent. What was wrong with this leech? Had she lost her mind due to grief?

Then she leaned toward my pair of pants that Claire had bought for me on my birthday, which were wrapped around my leg with a string. She sniffed a couple more times before smirking evilly.

"Either you like to wear women's perfume, or you have a mate, my dear puppy," she cackled, tossing her brown hair that was mixed with snow over her shoulders. I wanted to protest and tell her I was a freak who wore women's perfume; after all, that would save Claire's life. I could already see where this was going. Fear toppled into my stomach like a stack of bricks; Delphine planned on going after my imprint, my Claire. We weren't 'mates' yet, but I still loved her with a deep passion. No way was I letting anything happen to her!

"Well," the bloodsucker continued, "looks like I'm going to have to find your mate. Goodbye, little puppies."

She released us from her clutches and ran away as fast as the wind. Once again, we were about to follow her, when Sam stopped us. _Hey, guys! Hold up a sec!_

I growled with impatience. I had to follow the leech! My Claire's life was at stake!

Sam heard my impatience and continued. _I know, Quil. I know. But if we go after her, she'll just stop us with her power._

_Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? _I snapped, swishing my tail nervously between my legs.

_Get to Claire_, he replied with authority. _We need to get her and run her to a relative's place. You and she can take a plane to . . . Oregon. Yeah, she has an aunt there._

_No can do_, Paul said. _All flights are down due to the incoming blizzard_.

_Shit, you've got to be kidding me! _I exclaimed in despair. _Should we just run there?_

Sam pondered this before saying, _It seems to be the only thing we can do._

Long story short, I told Claire the news; she didn't even bat an eyelash. All she did was quickly pack a small bag and hop onto my furry back. Everyone in the rest of Sam's pack and Jacob's pack were alerted of the danger. Jake suggested the Cullens should come back to La Push, and we should see if Bella can deflect Delphine's gift. But Bella and Edward (minus Renesmee, who was still in La Push with Jake) were in France and had to take a flight here as soon as possible; unfortunately no flights were going into or out of La Push, so it would take longer for them to get here.

Also any place we ran, the vamp blocked us, and then used her stupid gift on us. We couldn't even get past the Washington border! So nearly a day later, here we were: Claire and I stuck in this flimsy tent. The snow drowned out our scent for the time being, but if we ventured off too far and made more tracks, chances were the leech would find us.

Both packs were circling our area, keeping us safe. We were slowly crawling toward Oregon with little luck. Stupid bloodsucker. I wished Bella would get here already and block the stupid bitch so I can rip apart her limbs: slowly and painfully.

I paused in my violent thoughts to glance over at Claire. I scooted closer to her and made an attempt to wrap my warm arm around her; partially to keep her warm from the snow and partially to feel her beautiful, seductive body against mine. Ugh, mind out of the gutter, Quil. Mind out of the gutter.

She finally closed her little book and rested her head against my shoulder. I gave a tiny smile and pressed my lips to her hair. She slowly looked up to me, and I wondered if I had gone too far. She surprised me by doing something I only imagined in my dreams. Her head tilted up toward mine, a gorgeous blush creeping across her cheeks, as her lips inched toward mind. My heart pounded, and I could barely breathe. This wasn't the place, or the time, but I hardly cared.

Just a few more centimeters for our lips to meet. A bit more. Just a little bit . . .

She quickly swiveled her head away from mine, leaving me without a kiss. I suppressed a sigh as she moved to set up her bed items.

"Goodnight, Quil," she whispered, wriggling into her sleeping bag. I was confused, a bit hurt, and of course deeply in love, but I simply left her alone. Whenever she was ready for a relationship, or even if she would ever want a relationship, I'd be there for her.

"'Night, Claire," I replied quietly, laying down on a blanket, and stared at the ceiling of the tent as it shook from the icy wind.

* * *

**End of chapter notes: Btw, many of those awesome names for the vamps were suggested by SkylarCraze. The only one I looked up was Delphine. The rest were all hers. So, thanks again, Sky!**

**Fan Girls: Don't kill me because Claire didn't kiss Quil! *runs and hides***

**But, you may review. That's always excepted. :P (Just no serious flames, like "I loathe you and want to kill you!" or anything xD)**

**P.S.: I seperated the vignettes in the last chapter (you know, when Claire told about short scenes from her past) with those little line breaks; just to make it easier to read. **

**REMEMBER 9/11: May those who died rest in peace.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: My only excuse is that I'm taking college courses in a high school, and it is very difficult and stressful. Thank you all for being patient with me! Here's a quick summary of all that's happened so far:**

**At Claire's second birthday party, Quil imprinted on her. Sixteen years later they are running from a vampire named Delphine, who is out to avenge her mate-who was killed by Quil. She has the power to stop anyone in their tracks, by stopping the flow of blood and muscle movement. Their hope lies in Bella, who might be able to deflect the power if the power affects the mind instead of the physical body. In the meantime, Claire has been given a "task book" (not a diary, of course) to write down her thoughts; she uses it to remember her past with Quil. **

**When we last left Quil and Claire, they were about to share their first kiss when she suddenly pulls away.**

**Alright, happy reading! It's a longer chapter! :) Btw, all mistakes are my own, this has not been beta-ed.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, Quil would be mine. Sorry, Claire! :P**

* * *

**_Chapter Four_**

Claire's POV

_Task Book_

Oh gosh, I wanted to kiss him so badly last night! But it's just not the right time; we haven't even discussed being a couple yet! Plus I don't even know if he likes me like _that_, or not. Sure, he's supposed to be my soul mate, but he doesn't show any signs of it; at least, no signs of loving me like _that_. Maybe he's just my soul mate in the sense of the best, closest friend. He didn't really go into the depths of an imprint.

I can still remember his warm body pressed against mine, the howling of the wind from outside—knowing I'm sheltered from the harsh weather by my most favorite wolf. I remember the sudden craving to taste his lips, press myself flush against him, drink in his aroma, and confess my love for him and only him. I want the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around me, throwing me down onto the blankets, and ravishing my mouth slowing and lovingly.

I'm frantically writing this in the morning, trying to get down everything before he wakes up. Though it's really difficult to pay attention when he's right next to me because, one, he looks so adorable when he sleeps, and two, he's snoring loudly enough to break windows—or rather send the tent crashing down on top of us. He's still cute, though.

His long, dark eyelashes are closed gently, but I know beneath those lashes are a dark brown pool of chocolate. His short, black messy hair is scrunched up to one side, sticking out on top; I want to run my fingers through it and breath in his woodsy scent. High cheekbones dissolve into dark, pink-brown lips—his russet colored skin shining.

Fortunately he's not wearing a shirt, so I can take this time to examine his muscled arms and toned stomach. My eyes wander down the planes of his stomach and stop at his hips, where his black sweats I gave him for his birthday hang low. I can't help but blush, partly pleased that he would wear my gift, and slightly embarrassed at my gawking at his handsome features.

I think it's time to stop goggling and get back to this entry. Anyway, Quil gave me a watered-down version of what happened before we left La Push. Apparently this Delphine leech is after me because Quil killed her mate, Rafael. She has this creepy power to drain the energy from any person—the victim's blood will start to freeze, he or she will have trouble breathing, and the person can't move a single muscle; the victim is simply thrown to the ground in misery and humiliation. Whether this "gift" actually creates a physical reaction in the body or if it is a work of the mind, we have yet to find out. Regardless, the power that vamp holds is absolutely disgusting.

I'm not usually a violent person—I may throw a rock or two at you, though—but now I want to freaking strangle this bitch! No one and I mean NO ONE hurts Quil, Uncle Sam, or any of my other wolf brothers. If she wasn't a blood-sucker who could break me in half with the slightest touch of her delicate pinky, I would totally kick her pretty-girl ass. But I digress.

* * *

Sleep-overs.

I was having a sleep-over with my friends Lizzie, Carrie, Joy, and Kelly sometime during second grade on a Friday night. The day before the party, I was begging my mom—insisting in my shrill voice—that Quil would be allowed to stay at the party and sleep-over.

"Momma, pleeeeaaase?" I whined, tugging her shirt sleeve and pouting. My mother—immune to the cute and innocent looks children give when they want something—didn't even look up from the sandwich she was cutting for me and my sister's lunches.

"Claire, sweetie, Quil can't stay at a girls' sleep-over party. This is just for you and your friends," Mom replied, stopping to pat my cheek softly and give a gentle smile.

I was relentless. "But, Momma, Quil _is_ my friend! And I want him here! Please, please, please, _pleeeease_?" I hopped up and down anxiously, my skirt flying into the air several times.

There was a swift knock on the back door and a head peeked into the kitchen window. A figure with black, messy hair and a devious smile appeared, and he waved carelessly at my mom and me.

Mom rolled her eyes and motioned for Quil to come inside.

"Hey, Claire-bear!" He exclaimed cheerfully, sweeping me into his strong arms and twirling me in the air. I squealed happily and swatted his head playfully.

"Quil! I missed you!" I giggled, tugging at his hair and wiping off the messy kiss he placed on my cheek. He set me down on the floor, my Mary Janes hitting the floor with a _tap-tap_ sound.

"You missed me?" Quil repeated with a cheeky grin. "But I was here last night."

"Too long ago, Quil," I responded indignantly with a huff, "You have to be here all the time! It's your job!"

"Well, it is part of my job," he said, ruffling my hair, "But I have another very important night job too. I can't miss it." He exchanged a meaningful look with my mom, who gave a knowing smile.

"Oh, okay," I replied obliviously. "Anyway, can you tell Momma to let you stay tomorrow night? You know, for the sleep-over? Momma's being mean and says no." I put on my baby-girl charm and pouted at Quil. I knew he wasn't immune to my innocent gaze!

Another glance was exchanged with Mom. "Well, Claire, I'd love to stay, but you know I have another job at night."

"Aw!" I complained, stomping my foot. "Can't you miss just one night?"

"Well," he trailed off in thought. "I guess I could get one of the guys to take my shift. Then I could stay. If it's truly okay with your mom, that is."

Mom smiled and patted Quil's shoulder. "If you're willing to stay up all night with five hyper eight-year-olds, be my guest. I won't stand in your way. Just check in with Sam first."

I gave a puzzled frown. "Why are you asking Uncle Sam?"

"I work for your Uncle Sam," he replied nonchalantly, wandering over to the kitchen counter to grab a plate of pancakes. He took eight pancakes, slapped them on the hot plate, and drenched the entire four servings in warm butter and syrup. He poured a tall glass of "lots of pulp" orange juice, sat at the table, and dug in like a starving dog.

"Oh," I shrugged, skipping over to the chair next to Quil. I began scrapping the toes of my black shoes back and forth against the linoleum. "I hope you can come."

He paused in his manic attack of the pancakes. He beamed at me, gave a deep chuckle, and slid his finger across the bridge of my nose and ended with a playful tap right on the top.

"I hope so too, Claire-bear."

The following night, Quil was chasing me around the living room, his short hair in pigtails, and makeup smeared across his face.

"I fall asleep for one second, Claire," he mock-shouted at me as he hopped over the couch, "And you and your little friends give me a make-over? Not cool, Claire-bear. Not cool."

I giggled as Quil scooped me up into his arms and tickled me relentlessly. Between gulps of hysterical laughter, I replied, "So—cool—Quil. You know—you love—your—new style. STOP TICKLING—AHAHAHA—MEEEE!"

My friends laughed and ran around us in circles screeching, "Quil's a pretty princess! Quil's a pretty princess!"

"Man," Quil laughed, "It's like your third birthday party all over again!"

He flung me onto the couch, grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the makeup off his face, pulled out the ponytails, and slung himself onto the couch with me, hovering his gigantic frame over my tiny body. He ran his fingers through my hair, a goofy grin on my face.

I giggled again and yanked his short hair roughly between my tiny fingers. This was a game we played all the time, one of my favorites. Soon however, my friends began making kissing noises and shouting "oh la la."

"What?" I shouted indigently. "Quil's like my brother! I wouldn't ever kiss him!"

Joy bounced up and down on her feet, screaming, "Quil and Claire sittin' in a tree!"

Carrie smiled, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Lizzie smirked with a matter-of-fact look, "First comes love."

Kelly playfully said persistently, "Next comes marriage."

Joy finished loudly and pompously, "THEN COMES A BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE!"

"AWWWWW," they all crooned in unison. I began to squirm uncomfortably under Quil's overly-warm body; but he just laughed and gave me a tiny, playful peck on the lips.

"But I'd kiss you, Claire-bear," he batted his eyelashes mischievously. The girls howled with mirth.

I grinned back at Quil, thinking that surprisingly, that kiss wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Wetlands.

That summer we went to a nature center in the middle of the wetlands; La Push is fairly wet, and though our little beach is nice, it's still cold most of the time. But at the wetlands, it was easier to see the animals, especially the beavers, which were one of my favorite animals.

Wolves were my first favorite.

Well, Quil and I had diverged from the tour guide and group, wanting to get a closer look at the dam in the middle of the lake. A couple of beavers were working on it—the presumably male beaver carrying chunks of wood in his mouth back to the dam while the female nestled twigs between the branches. It was a fascinating experience for me; my face was lit up with joy the entire time. And Quil beamed down at me, as if my happiness was the main channel of his own happiness.

"Quil, look! Mrs. Beaver is cleaning Mr. Beaver's coat!"

He chuckled softly, straightening the baseball cap on my head. "She sure is, Claire. Oh hey, it looks like she's coming over here to see you!"

Mrs. Beaver was staring pensively at me, as if wondering what kind of strange creature I was: a small girl with black hair tied back into my cap, knobby knees, and a bright green shirt. I crouched down in the large space between the railing and the planks of the bridge. She was close, so close I could almost touch her.

I could see the beads of water on her coat, instantly repealing the oils on her body. Her whiskers were long and her nose huge, and her eyes so tiny. She smacked her tail lightly as she swam closer.

I reached my hand out a bit further. "Claire," Quil said cautiously. "Be careful, don't reach out like that."

But I was already too focused on the beaver. I bent too far, tumbling over my feet, and landing with a splat, headfirst into the water.

I heard a couple of quiet screams as I fell under, the screams so silent I could barely hear them. When I reached the surface, I thrashed frantically through the mucky green algae, no longer concerned with the beavers. I was a passable swimmer for a 7-year-old, but my fear of drowning left my mind blank of swimming techniques.

I heard a loud splash and sensed him before I felt or saw him. Quil had jumped into the water after me, still clad in all of his clothing and shoes. A strong arm wrapped around my agitated body, and though I couldn't make out the words in my haze, I could tell he was trying to sooth me.

We were soon out of the water, and an old lady had pulled a beach towel out of her gigantic black purse to give to us. Quil immediately wrapped me up, asking me if I was okay, if I was cold, if I had hurt anything, if my head was free of pain.

My teeth chattered and tears were threatening to spill across my pale cheeks. My lower lip wobbled as I quickly whispered, "I'm s-s-sorry, Quil. I-I just wanted to see Mrs. Beaver. I'm s-so sorry."

He hushed me, pulling me close to his scorching body. I leaned into him, loving the warmth he always radiated.

"I'm just glad you're safe. I would never, ever let anything happen to you," he promised, stooping down to look me right in the eyes. "But don't lean that far again, okay? When I tell you to be careful, please listen." His tone was a bit more determined and ordering, but still gentle.

I nodded my head several times rapidly. "I will, Quil. I'll listen. Thanks for saving me."

My innocent eyes gazed up at him—my savior, my best friend. Nothing could ever truly go wrong when he's around. He would always protect me, even from my own silly mistakes.

He grinned, shaking my wet hair a bit with his fingers. "I'm here for you, angel—always."

* * *

And he was always there, even now as we run for our lives, struggling against some demon vampire out for the kill. The thing is, no one will ever break us apart—not even Delphine. He's not only saved my life many times, but he's saved my heart. It's cheesy, but true.

Love is such a complex, but rewarding emotion. It causes people to do anything for the person they love, even if it puts them in danger or hurts them. It can be such a simple thing too; maybe you express it by giving your loved one a smile and kiss each morning. Maybe you sing to your child to sleep each night. Maybe you just tell that person how much you appreciate them in different ways every day.

I wanted that with Quil forever. One day we'll express our love in each way possible: a complete union of trust, happiness, and marriage. I have to keep hope that he cares for me in that way.

I can't live without him.

Truthfully yours,

-:Claire:-

* * *

**End of chapter notes: This story will most certainly continue as quickly as possible; I have a few ideas up my sleeves. Patience will still be needed though, I'm afraid. Finals, AP, and IB testing are coming just around the corner. Wish me luck! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know it has been a while, and if I have any viewers left, I appreciate your patience and support through your reviews. I finally took all my testing, and I've graduated. Before I go off to the rest of my schooling, my writing and my job are my life. I know this chapter is a tad short and is not yet beta-ed, but I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: Original Twilight content property of Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

Quil's POV

The moonlight shone through the navy-colored tent, highlighting her high cheekbones and causing the shadows to cast down over her long eyelashes. In my eyes, she was akin to a Greek goddess—a woman who certainly couldn't be from this world. I may have been considered a supernatural being, but her sparkling personality and gorgeous features marked her as a righteous angel.

When she was a little girl, she flounced through life with everyone who loved her eating out of the palm of her hand. She dominated my world in the most perfect way—never demanding too much of me or her family and friends, but always accepting what we gave her as graciously as a child could.

During times like these, I wished I could turn back time and live during a time where life was so much easier. We played together like an older brother and younger sister would. Unlike most sibling relationships, I could be more patient with her and approach her like the best friend she could ever have, while still maintaining a protective older brother stance.

As she grew into an older age, her tastes and interests flourished into a more mature attitude, developing her into a talented older child and eventually a caring young teen. Her love for art and nature was carved into something more intense, more adult-like. She found her passion for writing, painting, exploring, and caring for wildlife: gifts I never would have realized I cared about until she introduced them to me. She opened my mind to greater opportunities and supported me through my opening of my (or rather our) Animal Care Society.

Through this new clinic, we took care of endangered and abused animals—giving them a place to be nurtured, fed, and cared for. Without Claire, I wouldn't have made this clinic as successful. With her marketing techniques, we grew this small clinic into a city-supported animal health center; this way, not only were we helping the animals in the area, but we have also supported families with new employment.

I was proud of the strong woman Claire had become, and I had come to love her in a new way that I hoped she accepted and returned. However, I wished her childhood could have lasted longer so she wouldn't be faced with the situation I placed her in.

This sick vamp wouldn't stop until she harmed Claire. Just a couple days ago, we came within three miles of Delphine after she literally stopped the pack in their tracks through her physically manipulative "talent."

Luckily Sam managed to be strong enough to break through her forces long enough to snap his jaws around her ankle and break her concentration. It was a vicious cycle of her freezing their muscles, racing past them at the speed of lightning, the pack unfreezing, and her freezing them again.

On the last cycle, Sam was within a hair of her and somehow forced himself to move despite her talent. He said he focused on Emily and how much he hated bloodsuckers who even were indirectly possible of harming her; through his hatred, he broke her ankle—but she froze him again before taking off in the opposite direction of us. Since then, they had been guarding us, but hadn't come in direct contact with her again.

We were certain she wouldn't cease her efforts until she killed Claire. Which would never have happened. My shackles raised and a growl boomed through my chest at the very thought of that vamp even thinking about harming a single hair on her precious head. As I thought these disturbing thoughts, I somehow managed to drift into a restless sleep.

My dream started out as cloudy and dark, where there were only two blurry people sleeping in a peaceful tent. The features blended into a man and a woman, the woman opening her tear-swollen eyes in the cold air. She reached out for the dark figure beside her, shaking him slightly as tears rolled down her face. He instantly awoke, noticed her tears, and grabbed her in a comforting embrace.

Perhaps the figures were originally unknown because the dream seemed so unattainable. The love between the couple seemed too unreal to believe. Somehow however, the couple became distinguishable as Claire and I.

As her tears began to slow, she lowered her head down to mine in a tender kiss. I returned the kiss and moved my body on top of her, pressing my mouth into the soft curve of her throat. She was a gentle, graceful woman—moving in a way that only would feel right with her. Her breasts pressed against my bare chest as my hands moved up the back of her blouse. She gasped my name with a reverence that only sounded perfect through her voice. I was head-over-heels for this woman; my love; my one and only.

The couple continued through their bliss as they slowly faded from my mind. The tent began to morph into a bright light that quickly turned into ivory snow. My dream was much like a movie as the view panned up to reveal a forest filled with full evergreen trees. Black birds soared through the air, but they suddenly began to chirp fearfully as a scream pierced the cold air.

A brunette bloodsucker with dark red eyes stalked through the trees holding a bleeding figure. She hatefully tossed the figure into the snow, and I found myself unable to move a single muscle. My eyes managed to move down to the figure I knew was my Claire. Her body was broken and mangled beyond repair, and despite the fact that I scarcely heard anything in this frozen state, I knew one undeniable thing: there was only one slowed heartbeat in this unforgiving air. And I wished it wasn't my own.

I woke with a start, breathing so hard and deeply that I was surprised Claire was still asleep. Trying not to move so I wouldn't wake her, I sat up and stayed that way the rest of the night. The sweat that drenched my body began to cool as I kept awake and alert, determined to protect the woman I loved.

* * *

**End of chapter notes: Well? :) It was hard to get back into writing, but let me know what you think. The next chapter is in progress.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is a long chapter (for me at least), and I think you all will like it. I know I enjoyed writing it. ^^**

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

Claire's POV

_Task Book_

The sunlight shone through the tent and gleamed right onto my closed eyelids. I knew it was morning, but I didn't want to have to wake up and move again. When I finally opened my eyes, I squinted at the tall figure next to me—who was sitting upright in a hunched position. My eyes focused on the figure and my hazy brain recognized the figure as Quil.

Had he been awake for a while? He seemed to be gazing intently at the zipper of the tent, his arms crossed over his knees and his chin resting on one knee. I quietly scooted over to him and pressed a hand against his forearm. Immediately he jumped a little and whipped his head over toward me. I saw him relax when he looked at me and then he turned his head back toward the entrance of the tent.

"Good morning," he mumbled tiredly, rubbing his eyes before standing up. "Do you want some breakfast?" He asked as he moved toward our supplies and pulled out a box of pancake mix and powdered milk. He walked sluggishly, dragging his feet and involuntarily popping his muscles as he moved.

What happened last night? Quil usually slept like a hibernating bear the entire night. With utensils, a griddle, a gigantic bowl, and the food in hand, he unzipped the tent and walked toward the pile of wood.

I followed him outside and shivered in the cold, damp air, rubbing my thinly-covered arms as I moved.

"Quil, are you okay?" I frowned as he rubbed his eyes again and yawned. "You look exhausted."

He poured the pancake mix into the bowl while I kneeled beside him to open the powdered milk for him. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the milk and giggled a bit at the sight of him wrinkling his nose with me. His eyes met mine at the sound of my laughter and he gave me a small smile.

"I had a bad dream last night, that's all," he responded to me as he stirred the mixture together. I got up to get more wood from the pile for the fire.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, sitting the wood down beside him. He sat down the bowl and moved to start the fire.

"It's not that important," he told me, but by the sound of his voice, it seemed like he was hiding something.

I finished stirring our pancakes and poured the mix into the griddle. I moved the standing, fire-resistant tray over the fire and placed the griddle on top. Quil had finished the fire, and we watched as the mixture began to bubble.

I wanted to know why the dream kept him up all night, so I tried my question again.

"Was your dream about the vampire?" I deadpanned, looking at him and waiting until he finally made eye contact with me. He glanced over at me with a haunted look in his face, and I couldn't help but gasp. I crawled over closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder with an arm wrapped around his waist.

"Quil, you can tell me anything," I persisted. "I promise I won't be afraid because I know you and the pack will protect me. But you can't leave this bottled up. It's not healthy."

Quil sighed and told me about how he had a nightmare about Delphine. He heard a scream in the forest and then the vampire had carried me over to him and had thrown my lifeless body to the ground.

As he told me the story, I tried to comfort him by rubbing his back soothingly. "You stayed up the rest of the night?" I asked, concerned for him.

"I couldn't let her hurt you, Claire," he explained with a hard glint in his eyes. "What if I fell asleep for a moment and woke up and you were gone? What kind of a friend, an imprinter, would I be? I won't let anything happen to you." By the end of his statement, he eyes had turned soft again as he gazed at me.

I wrapped my arms tighter around him and relished at the feel of his arms around me.

"If you have another nightmare, wake me up, okay?" I looked into his dark eyes intently. "It will make us both feel better if you know I'm okay, and I know you will get more sleep."

He kissed my forehead and smoothed out my hair as we took the first bite of our pancakes. "I promise, Claire."

* * *

Promises.

"QUIL?!" I shouted into the house as I stepped through his front door. The house appeared empty as I passed through the living room. After peeking inside the vacant kitchen, I moved on.

"Quil? Are you awake? It's 10:00, and you promised you'd take me to the park today." I marched through the hallway and pounded on his door. I heard some grumbling from the other side of the door, and a sleepy, shaggy-headed man opened the door before walking back into his room. I watched as Quil flopped back onto his bed, face-first with another moan.

I sat on my knees on the edge of his bed and bounced up and down.

"Quil?" _Bounce_.

"Quil?" _Bounce. Bounce_.

"Quil!" I shook his shoulder hard and fell flat onto his back. He sighed and rolled over, placing me beside him on the bed. We laid nose-to-nose having a staring contest while I waited for him to get up.

I blinked and lost the staring contest. "Momma dropped me off. She told me to tell you that you promised to take care of me today." I paused to sit up and scratch at a scab on my knee. "I told her that you'd never forget the days that we are supposed to hang out. That you always keep your promises. Right?"

Quil had closed his eyes and started snoring unreasonably loudly. I shook him again, and he laughed as he moved to recline against the headboard and found me pouting in front of him. Of course, I knew how much adorable charm an 8-year-old could have on her best guy friend.

Twenty minutes later and after grabbing five granola bars for Quil, we were off to the park just like he promised. I was running around the playground, swinging from the monkey bars with Quil when he jumped down and looked at his phone. He went over to a nearby bench to talk as I continued to play.

After a few minutes Quil walked over to me. "Hey Claire, I'm really sorry, but Uncle Sam has a job for me at the . . ." He paused. "At the . . . station. And I have to go in for work now at the reservation."

I slid down the kiddie slide and ran to his side. "But Quil! You have today off! You promised to play with me."

"I know, Claire-bear. But I have no choice. Sam's my boss, and he and the guys need me right now. It's an emergency." He squatted down to my level. "I'm going to drop you off at your mom's, and we'll play later, okay?"

After a couple of complains, pouts, and eyelash battings, we were riding in his old truck back to my house. I stomped into the house without giving him a hug goodbye, fell onto the couch, and switched on the TV.

It wasn't the first time Quil had to leave for work, and it certainly wasn't the last. He wasn't the type of person to make promises and break them without a good reason, and as I got older, I understood that to a larger degree.

I was twelve when my mom told me the worst news I'd heard in a long time.

"We're moving to Makah?!" I exclaimed as my mother sat me and my sister down to tell us the news.

She stroked Grace's hair and held my hand as she said, "Your father has a job offer there, and it's much better than our current situation, girls. We're just trying to look out for you both and do what's best for our family."

But I wasn't listening any longer. All I could think about was the fact that I'd be there and Quil would be here. I wouldn't see my best friend anymore. It was only a couple of hours away, but that didn't matter. I wouldn't see him every day after school. I wouldn't eat breakfast and watch cartoons with him on Saturday mornings. We wouldn't hike through the woods, sit on driftwood by the beach, skip rocks across the water, or have movie nights.

It would be all over except maybe during the few weekends that I would see him. He had a life here with a strangely demanding job with my uncle.

My uncle. Couldn't I stay here with Uncle Sam and Aunt Emily? I opened my mouth to suggest this when I heard a piercing animal's howl boom through the air. The howl sounded mournful and distraught, and my entire body shuttered at the horrible sound. Seconds later Quil was running through my front door with rainwater dripping down his bare chest.

"You can't leave. You can't take her!" He shouted at my mother, who was standing up with her arms crossed. He was breathing heavy and staring her down.

I jumped to my feet and raced to him. "Quil! Did you hear that animal's howl? It sounded like a wolf, and it was so close to the house. It didn't come near you, did it?"

My words were cut off mid-sentence as he and mom were arguing about family and jobs, along with something about imprints. I glanced over at my sister in confusion and found her gazing at me seriously.

It seemed like she knew something I didn't. But I didn't question it further.

My sister and I both didn't want to leave; this much I knew. Grace was just starting her first year in high school, and I was in seventh grade. We had so much here in La Push, and I couldn't remember anything from my very early childhood on the Makah Reservation. Grace might have known some kids from pre-school, but that hardly mattered anymore.

I sat next to Grace on the couch and leaned my head onto her shoulder. She put her arm around me in comfort and whispered that everything would be okay.

By this point, my father had already come downstairs due to the racket and was moving mom and Quil into the kitchen to dispute. After a few minutes Quil came out of the kitchen with my parents following. He looked haggard with emotion, and he pulled me gently to my feet.

"Can we talk, Claire-bear?" He asked softly, a crease still marking the spot between his eyebrows.

My eyes filled with tears, and I ripped my hand from his and ran upstairs to my room.

"Claire!" He called after me, bounding up the stairs after me.

I was sobbing as I entered my room and rolled myself onto my bed. Part of me knew that I was overreacting and that Quil was probably too harsh with my parents. We wouldn't be that far away, and if Quil sped down the roads, he might be able to get to me in an hour and a half.

But life would be different, and we'd have to find other ways to communicate. Sometimes during the week, we hardly saw each other because of my school and his work.

Quil had burst into the room and slowed as he approached my shaking figure. I tried to control myself and tell myself to get a grip. I was being childish by crying like this, and I had to act mature for my parents and Quil's sake.

I sat up quickly and ignored the head rush. Somehow he could tell I was woozy, and he steadied me and wiped my tears away.

Suddenly he embraced me with a tight hug and rocked me back and forth lightly. He kissed the top of my head and pulled away slightly to look at me.

"Just because you're moving, doesn't mean things are going to change between us. I'll be there every weekend to see you, and we'll still have Saturday morning cartoons and Sunday movie night. We can talk on the phone or chat online; Sam will understand if I'm at work less so I can talk to you, it will be—"

I cut him off. "It's okay, Quil. I mean, I hate being away from you, but I have to go. Don't make Uncle Sam upset by missing work, we'll figure it out. I just—I don't know." I sniffled and grabbed for a tissue off my nightstand.

He sighed and pulled me into a sideways hug. "You don't have to act so brave, Claire. I'm going to miss you a lot, and I was so angry at your parents. But I get it too. You have to be with your parents and sister, and we'll make it work, okay? I promise. I promise we'll keep our friendship close."

I looked up at him contemplatively. "You promise?"

"Yes," he said sincerely. "Always."

And he did what he promised. Our family began to pack and ship items over to our new house, which was surprisingly our old house being sold back to us. We visited the reservation to settle arrangements with mine and Grace's new schools. It took about a week to get our belongings and enrollments established as we stayed at Makah. During that weekend, Quil came to our Makah house and watched corny old movies with us as we all devoured ice cream and pizza.

We traveled back to La Push for last-minute packing when dad got a call from his old job. His boss said that an opening was up for management at the financial department of his highly state-ranked carpentry business. The salary would be almost double the amount that the job at Makah would offer.

Dad took his boss's new job offer, and we no longer had to move. I found out when I was older that Dad's boss was a man that was an "in-the-know-of-the-wolf-pack" citizen and was trying to find a way to keep our family in La Push. I was completely elated that we were staying in La Push, but my talk with Quil made me realize that we would always be best friends no matter what happened.

And he kept his promises. Always.

* * *

Tragedies.

I remembered the exact day it happened. I was nine years old, and Quil and I were lying on the floor playing checkers. I was kicking his butt, as usual, when my mother burst through the front door with tears streaming down her face.

"Richard!" My mother called as she ran up the stairs. "Ri-i-chard!" She choked, tripping slightly over a step.

Quil stood up with a frown on his face, helped me to my feet, and asked me to sit on the couch with him to wait for my parents to come back downstairs.

He rubbed my back anxiously as mom and dad walked down the stairs hand-in-hand—my mother with a grief-stricken face, and my father with a sad, worried look. My sister followed behind them with a confused, concerned look on her face.

Dad quietly asked Quil to give us a moment, and he told me he'd be back soon. After he closed the front door, my family had finished sitting down, and they told me the saddest news I'd heard in my young life.

Mom's father, Grandpa Jack, had died last night in a car accident. The roads were slippery and iced over in Makah yesterday, and grandpa's truck had skidded across the road and slammed right into a semi-truck on the other lane. He died on impact, having a quick and painless death.

My mother could only start the story, and by the time my father had finished telling Grace and I, we were in tears, hanging onto our mother's side.

A few days later was the funeral. Mom was straightening the bottom of my black velvet dress when we heard a knock on my bedroom door. I knew it was Quil and told him to come in. My mother gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me she and the others would be in the car waiting for it to warm up.

I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor as he sat beside me. The bed creaked slightly as it took on Quil's full weight, and he took my hand in his.

The room was silent for a few beats, and then he spoke. "I'm here for you, Claire. I know this is so tough, but we'll pull through." He gave me a long hug, and we stood up holding hands.

Quil held my hand throughout the entire ceremony, only letting go if a family member gave me a hug or if I had to use the restroom.

I looked over at my solemn, fairly composed mother and Aunt Emily. Aunt Emily had been close to my mom's side of the family, even though they weren't related by blood. Her brother, who was my dad, had gotten both sides of the family close through family outings and celebrations. My mom's parents lived in Makah, where we moved from when I was very little. Even though I didn't know this when I was nine, the Makah reservation was not known to have the wolf gene.

It was difficult at first for my "in-the-know" family and friends in La Push to get close to my "out-of-the-know" family, but over time they still managed to find and keep a close relationship despite this huge hidden secret.

Grandma Regina, Grandpa Jack's wife, was in the middle of my Aunt Emily and my mother, holding their hands as they all stood tall and firm. They were the strong women I looked up to and hoped to become.

Even though I was only nine-years-old, I knew that my family was special. We were closer than most, and I was lucky enough to find Quil as my best friend. He was like a protective older brother during serious times or when I did silly childish things that could harm myself; but, that day he was my best friend. It was as simple as that.

I stood strong next to Quil, like my grandma, mom, and aunt. My grandma had the memories of my grandpa and the entire family to support her today; my mom had daddy; my aunt had Uncle Sam.

Grace was the closest to grandpa out of the two of us, and she was the strongest young girl there. She had her friend there with her, but the girl with Grace wasn't like Quil. She wasn't older, wiser, or protective like Quil. She was supportive, but she wasn't as close to the family. So my sister had to be the stronger of the two of us, and I looked up to her too.

One thing I was definitely sure of: I couldn't have been strong without Quil there.

* * *

Staring at the fire, I could feel Quil's eyes searching my face. He could tell something was bothering me.

The truth was that I felt strong with him there, but what would happen if he decided to move on someday? I was his imprint, but not his chains. And I didn't want to hold him down. The memories of that funeral day brought comforting emotions of him holding me together, but unless he truly wanted to start a life with me, he would have to move on eventually.

I was only eighteen, and I was certain I loved him in a romantic way, but did he reciprocate? Or did he only care for me as a best friend would?

There was only one way to find out. I was afraid to ask him and get my heart broken, but I would have to ask him soon.

Wish me luck,

-:Claire:-

* * *

**End of chapter notes: So, I know you all are probably upset that I keep stringing along the whole "does he love me/does she love me" skit. But I feel it is crucial because of more somewhat romantic memories that Claire writes about in the planned upcoming chapters. It adds to the angst, and it would seem weird to get to the teenage stuff if Quil and her have already expressed their feelings for one another in "current life." **

**Anyway, I hate to say this, but I could really use some constructive criticism in the reviews. I haven't heard much; so do you like, have suggestions, dislike a certain part? Let me know, and I'll be able to add that to my writing and get it out to you all much quicker. Enjoy your summer (or winter if you don't live on the northern hemisphere)! ^^**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It's fall break at my college, so I've decided it's time for an update!**

* * *

**_Chapter Seven_**

Claire's POV

_Task Book  
_

Growing Pains.

My mom always told me that girls had it worse than boys, because "Girls have the babies, and daddies just sit there holding the mom's hand while she pushes a person out of her." When I learned about this when I was about eight, I laughed and cringed a little. But then I turned eleven and suddenly my mother's words were wise and golden. That was the year all hell broke loose.

"Quil! Do you have to breathe so freaking loud? My gosh, you're like an air conditioner spitting out air, but instead of cold air it's muggy and instead of clean air it smells like a dog's stinky breath!"

Quil looked completely shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. He froze, just staring at me, and then he moved forward to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. Wrong move.

"Don't. Touch. Me!" I shouted, yanking away from him like a touch from him would set me on fire. I stormed off to my room, grumbling about how men are all pigs that don't have to push babies out of them.

He told me later on that he stood in that exact same spot for ten minutes before my dad came over, patted his back in that hard, slapping way that guys always pat other men, and told him to get used to the yelling and hormones, because they would be around for a long time.

As many girls could probably guess, I'd started my "monthly gift" that winter of my sixth grade year. It was awkward and uncomfortable in the beginning, but soon I was back to my normal, non-evil/non-hormone-ridden self—with the exception of the week before my period.

* * *

When I turned thirteen, I had my first real crush. His name was James York, and he was the star of the basketball team. He had moved here last summer and already had a reputation of being a cool guy that every boy wanted to be. His friendly smile, bright blue eyes, and dirty blonde, spikey hair had me convinced that I had fallen in love.

All of my closest friends that I had grown up with, Lizzie (my best friend), Carrie, Joy, and Kelly, knew about my crush on James. One day during lunch, Carrie leaned over and whispered amongst us, "Look! It's James, and he's walking by us in three, two, one!"

James was dribbling a basketball with his friend, Trevor, by his side, who was trying to steal the ball from him. They were both laughing, and James would always manage to keep the ball away from Trevor before he could actually take it.

"Dude, c'mon! At least give me a chance here!" Trevor fake-complained. He hit the ball as James kept dribbling, and it surprisingly slipped from his hands and bounced over to us. We all screamed and cringed, but watched as it took one bounce after the other and found its way into my lap.

I looked down at it with a bit of shock before slowly looking up to see James crouched down in front of me. I immediately blushed pink.

"Sorry, girls," he apologized with a wide grin. I grabbed the ball wordlessly and handed it over to James. He winked and thanked me before him and Trevor were back on the courtside.

I took a deep breath, probably losing oxygen to my head due to my lack of breathing. My friends began to giggle around me before I shot them a look.

"What?" I barked. "Nothing was funny about that."

Joy shook her head and stifled another laugh. "Claire, you are so in love with James. I wish you could have seen your reaction."

I blushed further and stared down at my hands folded in my lap.

"Well sure," Carrie continued nonchalantly. "Claire's in love with James. But she'll never admit it to him, and then how will they ever have a chance of dating?"

Lizzie could see I was uncomfortable and began to calmly respond to them. "Guys, if she doesn't want to tell him, she shouldn't have to. It might make things awkward, and then she may never be able to even be friends with him."

Joy scoffed. "James isn't the kind of guy to be friends with a girl. He dates them, end of story. But Claire could date _and_ keep him; I'd bet on it." Carrie nodded her head in agreement, the two of them mumbling back and forth about how they could at least get James to talk to me.

The more I listened to them, the more determined I became. I didn't need James to come to me. I could go to him and win him over! Sure, I was a bit shy around boys. But Quil seemed to like to hang out with me, so I was positive I could convince James to go out for an ice cream eventually. But the first step was to get to know him.

I rose from my seat on the floor, brushed off the back of my skirt, and marched toward the center of the court. My friends quietly cheered me on as I walked away from them, with the exception of Lizzie who sat there with a worried look.

All the boys were now shouting to each other, in the midst of a frazzled game where the ball was flying in all directions. I stopped outside of their playing area and waited, my heart pounding out of my chest. I focused on breathing slowly in and out and continued to wait.

Finally one of the boys noticed me standing there and asked, "Eh, girl! What are you standing there for?"

I straightened my back and replied, "I want to talk to James." The basketball slowed as the boys heard my request. Then an embarrassing chorus of hoots and hollers rose as James pushed through his teammates.

"Someone call for me?" He asked as he made his way toward me. With every step he made, my heart beat faster and faster.

"Oh hey, you're the girl who caught the ball," he smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his shirt. I could see his pale, flat stomach as his jersey moved up.

I nodded, but couldn't breathe well. I was certain I was having a heart attack, but I wiped my sweaty palms against my skirt and opened my mouth to speak.

No words came out. I tried again, but a cough was the only noise I heard. His friends were watching and laughing quietly, punching each other in the arms. Whether they were laughing at my pathetic scene or joking that James always got the girls, I never knew.

Finally I blurted out, "Will you go out with me?"

I saw a wave of shock flit across his face before he composed himself. He looked down at his tennis shoes and shuffled his feet across the linoleum awkwardly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he responded. "You seem nice and all, but I don't see you that way. I'm sorry." He shot me a small smile before going back over to his friends.

I stood silent for a moment as I watched all of the guys turn around snickering and continue their game. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I raced out of the gym. I thought I heard Liz call after me as I passed, but I didn't stop to check.

I stayed in the bathroom for the rest of the lunch period, feeling alone and a bit gross because of my crying and the snot rolling down my chin. Before the end of lunch, Liz came in, banging on my door.

"Claire? I left you alone to cry, but I don't want you to be by yourself anymore. You're upset, and you shouldn't be alone. So will you open the door?" She called to me through the metal door. I sat on the toilet seat, miserable with a headache and a heavy heart. It was the kind of feeling that all young, naive girls have when they think they've fallen in love with their prince, but they realize that they have only formed a silly crush on a frog.

"It was humiliating!" I wailed. "All of his friends were watching, and I know they were laughing at me!"

I heard her lean against the door. "Yeah well, boys are stupid and immature. You shouldn't even give them a second thought." She remarked confidently.

"But I thought James was different! He seemed so nice," I sniffed, wiping my nose with a piece of toilet paper.

Lizzie paused. "Claire, you didn't really know him that well. And boys will be boys; even James will try to impress his friends. He's a popular guy, and even though he's not usually a jerk to the rest of the school, he'll still want to choose who he dates and do what his friends want him to do. But trust me; high school will be different." Thinking back on it now, high school really wasn't all that different, but Liz tried her best.

After her speech, I finally came out of the bathroom, and we hugged before heading off to class. After school I went straight to my room and threw myself on my bed face first.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep in that position, because before I knew it I felt someone shaking me. Groggy with sleep, my first plan was to give the person waking me the most evil stink eye I could muster. I opened my eyes to do so and saw Quil staring back at me with a smile.

"Good evening, Miss Sleepy," Quil said. "How was school?"

I stared back at him for a moment before tears welled up in my eyes, and they began to roll down my cheeks. These tears soon turned into wails as I collapsed against his chest.

"Whoa, whoa! What happened, Claire-bear?" Quil asked with an alarmed look on his face. He rocked me back and forth in his arms, stroking my hair and trying to soothe me.

I didn't speak for a while, just crying and staining his shirt with salty tears. He just held me, rubbing my back as we sat in silence that was only interrupted by my sniffling. Finally I sat up and wiped at my puffy red eyes, seeing a bit of make-up smear onto my fingers.

Quil leaned over and reached for my nightstand, snatching a tissue and handing it to me. I blew my nose, threw away the tissue, and collapsed onto my back on my bed. Quil followed suit and lay on the bed next to me, turning over to me and waiting for me to begin speaking.

I took a deep breath and started from the beginning, explaining how James and his friend bounced the ball into my lap and how all my friends, except Lizzie, encouraged me to go talk to him. I told him that I walked up to James and his friends on the basketball court and described how they laughed at me during my awkward encounter with James and after his rejection. I finished with me sulking in the bathroom, and Liz coming to save me.

Quil listened quietly throughout the whole story, but in his eyes I could see a silent rage building up as I continued with the recap. By the time I was finished, his hands were balled up in fists, but he was strangely quiet and still despite this.

After a minute of silence, I stared down at his balled up hands and asked, "Quil? You okay?" I had finished crying and my voice with smooth with my throat and nose clear, which I was proud of myself for.

Suddenly he enveloped me in a hug, a hug that was so bone-crushingly fierce that I had to choke out the words to tell him he was crushing me. He loosened his grip, but continued to hug me.

"Boys at this age are such morons," He whispered in my ear. "Actually, boys at all ages are idiots. But they are more so at your age."

I smiled. "That's what Lizzie told me."

"Well she's a very good, smart friend then," Quil replied as he pulled away to look at me. "These guys aren't good enough for you, Claire. You're special. You deserve to be treated like a queen."

I gazed at him misty-eyed, wishing he went to my school and could protect me from the stupid boys.

He began to wipe the tears from my cheeks, and I lowered my eyes miserably. "I'll never get a boyfriend, will I, Quil?" A long silence followed my question, and I finally forced myself to look up at him.

The look on his face was unusual and indescribable, like he had absolutely no idea what to say to me, but he knew what he _wanted_ to say to me. This look was quickly wiped from his face as he gave me the answer that any girl would want to hear.

"You'll find your prince, one day. I'm certain of it." He replied softly, looking determined and like he personally would take on the mission of finding my prince.

Of course, I expected nothing less from Quil. He was always generous and kind to me, bending over backwards to try to make me happy. But in this case, I wasn't so sure that he could do anything for me. Love was something I had to find on my own, no matter how much I wished Quil could pluck the right guy out of the sky for me.

Then again, I was only thirteen. And I was completely ignorant of the fact that I would one day fall completely in love with him, my one and only prince.

Love,

-:Claire:-

* * *

**End of chapter notes: Hope you liked it. :) Keep posted for chapter 8!**


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